The Hunted
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: Pretty plotless. PWP basically! Set in the very early days - when it was very much a predator and prey relationship. In the club's bathroom, Ste's work is interupted by the arrival of Brendan, with only one thing on his mind.


**The Hunted**

There was a silent whistle about his lips as, with two fingers, he pushed the bathroom door open. The over-confidence sauntered in his footsteps with his head cocked to the side, he spied his target. In the light, the nape of his bowed neck glittered with fine blond hairs and Brendan found the anticipation to touch him growing.

Brendan knew Ste was fully aware of his presence, but taking it as a test, continued to mop the floor unfaltering. It was only when Brendan had closed the gap, pressed chest and groin against Ste, sliding his hands around and up and down his thighs, that Ste's motions stopped and he was left to lean against the handle of the mop. A shiver tingled through him as Brendan lips laid the hint of a kiss on his neck. Before he could speak a word, one of Brendan's palms grazed roughly against his crotch and colour flocked to his cheeks as he became as inevitably hard as the man tight against him.

Ste found his eyes flickering shut, the resistance futile. Brendan was firm and focused with his touch and Ste was summoning all his strength to stand.

"I could get you done for sexual harassment at work, you know?" he said, almost breathless. He wanted the nerve to reach behind and get his own hands on Brendan, but fear of the consequences prevailed. In his peripheral vision, he could partly see Brendan's reflection, a determined lust sculpted him.

Brendan's hands dipped underneath Ste's black t-shirt, he could feel every delicious tremor of adrenaline, each indentation of skin. He felt for the moles he knew were there, a scar from childhood games, the trickle of hairs, the hip bones that jutted out like a dangerous tease.

There was the briefest of grunts that escaped him when he felt a tiny movement of Ste's pelvis that rubbed against him like the epicentre of a fire.

"That only flies if you don't want it," he said, nose pressed behind Ste's ear and moustache hairs cradling the lobe of his ear. He was already picturing the sweat prickled skin of Ste's orgasm.

"Maybe I don't,"

Ste was pushing it. He almost bit back the temptation, but he knew there were times when he could get away with flirtation. Brendan had a weakness for him being a cocktease when he knew he would get to fuck him regardless. There was never any question to that. Brendan wanted to fuck him; they fucked.

Brendan unbuttoned and unzipped Ste, roughly burying his hand into the fold of his clothes and gripped hold of his cock.

"Yeah…I thought so."

He scraped the edge of his teeth against Ste's neck, feeling the hot throb of Ste's cock in his hand and letting the lazy ooze of pre-cum lubricate the tight movements of his fist. His tongue tingled with Ste's pulse as he gave mumbled, groaning licks across his throat. It caught him by surprise, a surprise that almost made him grip and twist Ste's arm, when Ste's fingers crawled behind and between them and pawed at the front of his suit trousers. But he relented, amused by the boy's desperation.

"Down boy," he growled. He wiped his hand on the front of Ste's t-shirt and separated from him. "Get your clothes off."

He took the mop and the wheeled trolley of cleaning agents and put up a makeshift blockade by the door. It was a risk, but with the club closed to punters, it was safer than taking him home. By the time he turned back around, Ste's trousers were puddled by his feet, his t-shirt looped over a sink.

He moved in closer, eyes unmoving from Ste, fixed with the corner up-turning smile that made Ste swallow hard, a quiver shooting through and making him feel painfully self-conscious. His knees gave a tremor, the kind that felt like an aftershock after an explosion.

"Continue," Brendan said with a flick of his hand.

Ste's skin pimpled with a sweat of vulnerability. He lost eye contact for a moment as he battled with his limbs to pull down his underwear. He saw the hunger in Brendan's eyes like a dark ferocity and for a moment experienced a thrill of power; he was the wanted, the hunted. He watched on, with teeth and tongue loose at his bottom lip, as Brendan unbuckled.

By the hair at the scruff of his neck, making it sting a little, Brendan pulled him into an open-mouthed clash of a kiss, moaning hours of sexual frustration against his tongue. He hooked Ste's lip into his mouth with his teeth and sucked. Then he had pushed Ste away at the shoulders and turned him around until he was braced against the sink – staring at their own flushed reflections.

He saw Brendan laugh with abandon in the reflection, a soulful throaty laugh that prompted Ste to risk turning for another kiss, catching him off guard with a delicate intimacy that broke the primal urges into something more tender. Brendan had known what that sort of kiss meant, so he pushed it away, ripped into a condom packet with his teeth, his fingers running up the curve of Ste's arse.

Ste hand his clammy hand pressed against the mirror, staring with a perverse interest as Brendan, more dressed than he would have liked, entered him. He watched the sharp pain in his contorted face soften into a glassy-eyed pleasure. Brendan's fingertips burned into his bony hips as his thrusts reached a pace that clouded Ste's consciousness.

The surroundings, as dank as they were, didn't distract from the excitement of something so risky. It felt frantic and illicit, it'd been better than the drugs he'd taken in his youth, better than any chemical high. As his gaze flickered, he revelled in the intense pleasure Brendan was gaining from him, the way despite the suit and the swagger, at the peak of orgasm he was as exposed as he ever could be. Ste felt Brendan's face pressed against his head and his first name murmured into his hair as he came, throwing his final burst of life into pumping Ste until he too was spent.

Slumped, Brendan held Ste flush against him for a moment, turning him in his arms until they were forehead to forehead, rasping. Brendan licked his hand clean in a way that would have once made Ste feel uncomfortable but now, wanted, and then reached out to smooth Ste's hair away.

"We could go back to mine," Ste said with a pleading that he almost instantly regretted.

Ste reached out to kiss him, and their lips met for a moment and stilled. The mask had begun to rebuild and Brendan stood straighter, redressing.

"You're gonna have to clean that again," Brendan said, indicating the evidence of their hook up. "Good lad." He fished for a stick of gum and gave Ste a smile, one that he usually used for cockier pursuits of deluded females.

But then with a change of tact, when he saw the dejected glance to the floor that Ste gave, he approached him again, softer this time.

"I can't getting any work done with you flaunting that arse in my face, Stephen. Get looser trousers or I'll have to get a fucking bed in here." With that, he kissed him firmly and slowly.


End file.
